Hermione's Haven
by SlaveToSeverus
Summary: Hermione is running herself dry in her bake shop and she is in desperate need of a potion maker. She gets more than she bargained for with an unexpected supplier.
1. Chapter 1

Every morning it was the same; 3 o'clock wake up call, a quick shower and barely a glance in the mirror as she pulled her hair away from her face. By 3:30 Hermione was in her shop, working on barely 4 hours rest as she rolled dough, charmed the front seating area to tidy itself, and organized the upcoming workday for her employees.

She yawned, concealing it in her sleeve before continuing on with her morning ritual. It wasn't a big shop, barely ten patrons could be seated at a time, but every day she nearly sold out of her supply. After the first trying year of living month to month, barely scraping by, her shop had exploded. The niche she filled in this particular market couldn't have been more receptive to her.

The oven hummed to life with a flick of her wand, the proofer fogged with obvious warmth and humidity, and the mixer beat a rapid time as another batch of dough slapped merrily along the side of the bowl. In the final minutes of mixing, Hermione cast two charms, a mouth cleansing and freshening charm and a hair grooming charm that never seemed to work on her own mass of curls that had been recently neglected in the past year.

This is what kept people coming to her shop. With a combination of potions and charms, she was able to create a litany of fresh pastries, cakes, and cookies that not only tasted good but actually aided the 'every man's' morning. She had gotten the idea from Fred and George but rather than pranking people, she wanted to help people. If she hadn't praised their intelligence before she did now more so than ever as creating the spells and wand work necessary for her products was no easy feat.

A buzzer rang and Hermione smiled as Terri walked in through the front door and immediately went to the employees changeroom in the basement. Hermione glanced at her watch, 5:45; there was never enough time.

Terri reappeared a moment later, dressed in a chocolate-coloured t-shirt with her company's insignia on the front left breast. It was simple, a coffee cup with the steam charmed to spell out Hermione's Haven, in an elegant script.

"No offense, but you look like shit," Terri said with a concerned smile as he tied his apron around his waist.

"Well good morning to you too," she mumbled with an eye roll. Terri was the only one of her employees that treated her like a friend. She was equally endeared and aggravated by him on a regular basis about everything from work to her nonexistent social life.

Hermione pointed to the list she had drawn up, "That's for today, I think you should start with the memory brownies as we've only got about 15 left in the freezer."

Terri looked down the list and groaned, "Hermione, this is nearly double what we usually do on a Tuesday."

A different buzzer rang, making Hermione turn on her heel from the dough she was currently beating into a rough ball shape. She pulled the risen rolls from the proofer and set another timer for the oven as she threw them in. "I know Terri, I've got a new girl coming in at nine so maybe we can pawn off some off the simpler stuff that doesn't involve wand work. We were insanely busy on the weekend and yesterday I couldn't come in because I was brewing all day and -"

"Hey, hey it's all good. We'll get it done." His reassuring smile calmed her nerves, she knew she could always count on him.

"It's in order of-"

"Priority. Got it. You think it's my first day here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to work on her dough, a small smile gracing her lips for the first time in days.

Some people would think, and more often had said, that Hermione was wasting her intelligence, throwing away the opportunities that had all but lined up for her after the war. But she was tired. She was tired of the limelight that followed her like an annoying shadow, it had been weeks of interviews after the initial battle, months of trashy gossip rags after her amicable parting with Ron, and a further several weeks of interviews after their awards ceremony.

That's when she'd last seen Severus Snape, accepting his Order of Merlin First Class with a stoic nod, and a ghastly scar covering nearly half of his neck. The sight of him, so close to her as she too reluctantly accepted her Order, haunted her still. They had seen his final moments, they had left him in the shack to die alone, and some how he had survived.

Those same gossip rags that had torn her down, spun a tale of epic proportions as they speculated on how he survived, the tragic romantic war hero that risked everything for the love of one woman. Well, they were bound to get one or two facts right.

The guilt of his near passing ate at her core with feverish intensity if she was left alone too long. So, she threw herself in her work, immersing herself in potions, charms, and baking.

But even she knew it was becoming too much.

Seven o'clock approached swiftly and the first rush of customers arrived, from ministry workers and stay at home parents alike, no one was neglected in her concoctions.

"I swear, Benji just fakes a cold to get some of your Pepper-up Peppermint Patties." A woman with a sniffling child in her arms that immediately quieted when munching happily.

"I'm going to need a shot of whit sharpening in my tea, important interview at 9." A rather nervous looking, middle aged man with pants too short and tussled brown hair.

"I couldn't get through a day without one of your morning glory donuts." A younger blonde man who she suspected spent his nights partying until he was sick.

It really was a pleasure to see the change in their face from the first sip or bite of whatever they happened to purchase. Her Pepper-up connoisseur smiled happily as steam piped out of his ears and chocolate laid smeared across one cheek. Her nervous interviewee chatted up a rather attractive witch in her shop, the sound of her giggle trilled in girlish delight. And her dear party animal looked fresh showered, hair groomed, and had a near spring in his step as he left.

In between customers she scanned the ads in the prophet. She was in desperate need of a potioneer. With the amount of work in the shop, Hermione could no longer keep up with the additional potion making. They went through nearly five batches of invigoration draught a week alone. She needed someone who knew what they were doing, someone who could do this stuff with their eyes closed and still produce potent and precise potions.

She tore out a few ads, some looked promising and others she took just for good measure. It was the final and smallest ad that caught her eye:

 _Potion's Master_

 _Flawless potions guaranteed._

 _Weekly deliveries._

 _Contracts only._

Hermione frowned, it was terse, very little was detailed about their background, and they had only left a numbered owl post for her to deliver an inquiry to so she didn't even have a name to address it too. With a resigned shrug, Hermione tore out the final ad and threw it with the others. If this person really was a potion's master then she could definitely be assured of their potion making capabilities.

It couldn't hurt to check it out.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione dug the heels of her palm into her eyes until she saw stars. Her just concluded meeting with a "potion maker" still fresh in her mind. The dolt couldn't tell an asphodel from a daisy for all she was concerned. His sample potion left a lingering ringing in her ears that he had assured her was normal for calming draught. Needless to say, she would not be calling upon him for his services anytime soon.

It was near closing time and for that, at least, Hermione was grateful. Even if she couldn't quite go home she would at least be able to shut away the excess noise of that cash drawer opening and closing. Terri would clean all the table tops, go home to his charming wife and newborn daughter, and she would be able to pull out her potions kit and get to work on a handful of needed items.

The list of potential potioneers she had written in a worn red leather journal was starting to look more depressing as each name was vehemently crossed off the list with a handful of notes next to it. _Mary Bryst – Too much to handle, not enough work space. Felix Scratt – Amateurish at best, not strong enough. Amycus Fitch – requests 2 weeks' notice for the simplest of potions._ And finally, there was Gary Regius. With an irritated scowl, a trill still buzzing in her ear, Hermione scratched out his name with a flourish and simply wrote one word next to it. _Idiot._

"That bad huh?" Terri said, as he peaked over her shoulder.

"If you tried that potion you'd write the same thing, I feel like I've got a headache coming on and he says its normal, NORMAL!" Hermione tossed the pen down and cradled her head in her hands. "A calming draught that makes your ears ring incessantly, idiot."

Terri chuckled and continued to clean the rustic style wooden tables and chair around her, "Anyone left on that list or will I have to see those bags under your eyes forever?"

Hermione glared at him, "Oh, ha ha. I have one last meeting with a mystery guest. No name. A Potions Master apparently." A flashing 6:59 shone in the air in front of her wand as she cast a quick tempus. "He should be here any second, once he comes in you can close the front and head home."

"Yes ma'am."

She rolled her eyes in mild annoyance and went to the espresso machine to make a latte. As the milk frothed, she heard the familiar buzz of the front door opening. Her practiced smile faltered as the dark figure entered her shop.

His piercing black eyes scanned the room before falling on the stunned witch. For a brief moment he stared at her, looking as if he were making a decision to move further into the shop or leave. A deep rattling and wet dripping snapped her attention from him as her milk scalded and over flowed.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath as she quickly shut off the machine and vanished the mess away with a simple flourish.

Severus Snape stood in her doorway, the only indicator of his aging being a ragged scar down the side of his neck that was mostly covered by his high collared frock coat.

"Miss. Granger," his voice was unchanged, deep and velvety as he caressed each syllable, he took several steps into the store.

Hermione quickly snapped from her thoughts and made her way around the counter, a hand outstretched in greeting, "Professor, I wasn't expecting you." She inwardly winced at how her voice squeaked, as if she were back in his classroom.

He quirked an eyebrow, "I intended to keep my anonymity for as long as possible." His gaze shifted around the shop, looking as though he was analyzing every nook and cranny, "I have to say even with the name I never expected to see "the-brightest-witch-of-her-age" running a coffee shop."

Hermione bristled, "If you had opened a paper a year and a half ago when it started you would have read quite a bit."

"I only recently started reading the Prophet again, one can only take so much worship from imbeciles," he sneered. It seemed that no amount of time or relief of war obligations were likely to cut the snark from his tone. His eyes were glued to her menu as he took a seat at the nearest table, taking in each item and corresponding effects.

"Would you like a coffee or a tea, Sir?"

"No, I'll prefer to have my wits about me, lest you dose me with a giddiness solution and better your deal," he said with a sneer. She ground her teeth in annoyance, after three years he was still as sour and scathing as ever.

Terri came up the stairs and paused as he took in the scene before him, Hermione was flushed with agitation and the no longer mystery guest wore a scowl that could cut through steel. "All closed up downstairs Hermione. Do you want me to stay a bit longer?" He gave a pointed look to the black clad figure drumming his fingers against the table.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, "Not necessary, I'll see you on Monday."

Once she heard the crack of his apparation just outside of the door, Hermione locked the front door, took off her chef's coat, and took a seat across from her former Professor. "I have to say Sir, I did not expect you. I thought you were in Angola."

"You place far too much stock in the drivel that's spouted in the Daily Prophet." As he spoke his eyes traveled her newly revealed figure. It was not so much a leer but more of a calculating assessment that tinged her cheeks a faint pink.

In this moment, Hermione was glad she kept in shape despite the bounty of sweet treats surrounding her on a daily basis. True, her hips were a tad rounder, perhaps she had gone up a bra size, but her stomach was flat and toned, her limbs lean. Her love life may have been non-existent but she still wanted to be desired.

Her cheeks burned a little brighter as she shook the thoughts away. This was Severus Snape, meticulous, reserved, and emotionless, former spy for the Order. He most certainly was not and would never be, ogling her in a sexual manner. Not that she cared.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked down to her prepared questions that now seemed irrelevant. "Well, Sir, I guess I don't need to ask you about your experience, or qualifications," she crossed the first two questions away, "Perhaps you can tell me what sort of workspace you have."

"I have a private laboratory in the basement of my home. It is more than sufficient to handle several brews at a time," his fingers drummed away at the table, almost impatiently. It was not the first time Hermione had noticed his hands, long fingers, agile, faint burn marks along several spots from brewing, they were quite attractive if she were to judge them.

She felt heat creep along her neck and pretended to write his answer in her journal to look away from him. Good God she really was desperate, she couldn't even get through an interview with a man least likely to slake her hunger without thinking something inappropriate.

"That's good because I'm generally in need of quite a few brews a week." She looked back to him, he was stoic as ever, the only indication of his impatience the _tap tap tap_ against the table. "How do you feel about brewing potion's that I've created. I really would like to unladen all of the potion brewing over to someone else and that includes a brew that hasn't been registered quite yet," she blushed, she really had meant to get the paperwork done but she just didn't have the time.

The drumming ceased and he looked at her curiously, "What sort of potion?"

Hermione beamed, "Oh well it really is quite remarkable! It's a simple multi-dye hair potion, but I've altered it so in reaction with an emotion revealing charm it can change the colour of your hair to correspond with emotions. Watch." In her excitement, Hermione forgot who she was talking to, she was rambling about her creation and her voice gushed with a fierce pride which made him smirk.

She rushed to the counter and brought over a diamond shaped candy on a plastic ring. The candy itself was a kaleidoscope of colours, shifting from green to blue to purple, and seemed to let off a faint glow. "I got the idea from a muggle candy called ring pops, I've just named them Mood Ring Pops, I'm not terribly clever with names, but look," she grinned and sucked the pop into her mouth.

If it was possible, Severus' eyes seemed to darken as she swirled her tongue around the candy, the lude nature of it all was lost on Hermione in her excitation. In an instant her frizzy hair turned a glowing lime green. "This lime green is excitement, red for anger, yellow for happiness, the usual."

"Miss. Granger, as inane and pointless as this is, it really is quite a feat to combine both charms and potions in such a way," he took the candy from her and eyed it with a speculating look, "I'm curious to see your alterations and look forward to brewing it."

Hermione's hair turned bright pink as she glowed with pride, "Well thank you Sir." She turned back to her notes, "What days are you available for delivery? Sunday nights would be ideal since we're closed on Mondays, that way we'll be stocked for the coming week."

He nodded once, "As long as you have your order in by Thursday morning I can work within your schedule."

"Is there anything you would like to ask?" Her eyes fell to his hands fingering the plastic ring of her candy. The candy that had been between her lips, oh god she was practically licking his fingers by association, her hair turned a deep purple as she imagined how they would taste freshly coated in her own arousal.

It was official, she desperately needed to get laid, immediately. No wait, not immediately! In the nearest possible future and as far away from Snape as possible.

He eyed the rapid change of colours of her curls and shook his head, "I'll draw up a contract and prices for all the potions you will require. Expect an owl tomorrow evening. The only thing I ask is that you keep our association private. I do not need all of Britain hunting me down if they catch wind that I am in the city."

He rose, casting a protective charm over the candy and placing it in his pocket, "I'd like to study this a bit more, if that is alright." She nodded mutely, pleased that he found her creation worth analyzing further. Would he taste it?

Unbidden thoughts of his lips wrapped around the candy that her tongue had lavished with attention came to the forefront of her mind. Now they'd be kissing by association. The deep purple returned to her locks as she walked him to the door.

He turned and took her proffered hand in his for a brief shake. "I do have one question, Miss. Granger." His grip was firm, his hands warm in hers, slightly calloused and rough.

Hermione swallowed dryly and begged that her occulemency shields were at least somewhat erect when he reached out his other hand and tugged on a violet lock. Fuck. Erect.

His look was one of inquisitiveness, "What is purple?"

Her heart thundered to a stuttered beat. Passion. The darker the colour the deeper the emotion, she caught a glance of the deep shade and blushed crimson. "I suppose you'll find out when you start brewing."

She took her hand back and a step backwards to distance herself from the hold his eyes had on her. He frowned, clearly unsatisfied with her answer.

"Good evening Professor."

He nodded once, "Miss. Granger."


	3. Chapter 3

What in the name of Merlin's saggy balls had she been thinking? _Three stirs clockwise, three rose petals, three stirs clockwise, chopped tumeric, 3 stirs clockwise, ground unicorn horn._ The potion below Hermione's mindful tending let out a cool puff of blue smoke. Despite the refreshing breath, her brow still shone with perspiration. She was nervous, feelings of being in the classroom with her dour Professor staring at her hawkishly flooded her system as she stepped back to allow her brew to simmer.

Perhaps it was partly because his gaze WAS so wholly focused on her for the last hour that she felt incredibly bare before him, doubly so since this was her own creation. He had been quiet, taking notes in a simple black tattered book, never once did he criticize or say a word of admonishment. It was more disconcerting to think of what scathing comments must be running through his mind rather than hear them aloud.

The reason she was in this predicament was her own doing. She had foolishly offered to show him the brewing technique of her potion rather than just hand him the directions and ingredients. Rather than decline her offer with a snarky retort in his spiky scrawl, the response she received was that he would be at her shop the next evening.

So, it was with nervous anticipation she closed her doors this evening. He had been prompt, set his outer robes down on one of her chairs, and immediately requested they start. Perhaps he was a little terse, but she hadn't expected much different from a man who rarely took pleasure in another's company.

"How long does it simmer for?" His voice halted her inner musings.

"Exactly 30 minutes. The ingredients I've just added need time to mature slightly before the next stage," she peaked into the potion, it was a startling ice blue in colour and the consistency of molasses, each pop was slow and made hardly a sound.

He nodded and scrawled a few notes. "I take it that each ingredient between the clockwise turns will react with the charm cast later on?"

Hermione smiled widely, "Exactly! Unicorn horn for happiness, dragon scales for anger, turmeric for envy, rose petals for," her face flushed as she recalled his hands tugging her purple tress just a few days before, "for love or passion."

"How poetic," he said with a smirk. He set his book aside and leaned against the countertop with arms folded, looking as imposing as ever. Despite his very standoffish behaviour, her stomach flipped at the raw power nearly emanating from him.

Hermione blushed again, "Yes well, it's not as if I made the properties of the flower myself." She leaned against the opposite counter and mimicked his position, arms folded with a scowl. "Did you … sample the product?" The thought of his hair turning bubblegum pink nearly made her giggle.

"I did once I was safely in the privacy of my home. It was," he paused, rubbing his stubbled chin thoughtfully. He looked far more rugged than she could ever recall seeing him. "Interesting to say the least, and quite accurate from what I could assume."

Hermione flushed again, a habit around him that she was starting to loathe. But the image of his tongue caressing, tasting, flicking along the candy that had been in her mouth mere minutes before made her body temperature rise unwittingly. Did he scourgify it before he licked it? Or did he simply taste it without a thought to her lips being attached to it previously? Or perhaps he _was_ imagining her lips. The thought sent a fresh wave of rouge throughout her chest.

As she tortured herself with thoughts of his tongue, his eyes roamed her figure at a near leisurely pace. Despite her constant internal beratement throughout the day she was glad she had opted for an outfit that clung just a little closer to her skin. The crimson blouse showed hardly enough cleavage to be considered unprofessional but enough to draw the eye, and her muggle jeans hugged her hips snugly.

"What is the significance of the shade of the colour?" His eyes were suddenly focused on hers, deep, penetrating.

Hermione let out a breathy laugh, uncrossing her arms, "Well that just seemed to be a happy accident. But from what I've gathered through experimentation, the darker the colour then the more … impure the thoughts are." His eyebrow arched in an unspoken question. She continued, "For example, red means anger, but I've noticed that the emotion associated with a deep blood red is more akin to hatred and loathing, a desire to cause pain."

His brows were knitted together, deciphering something but Hermione's pleasure in her own creativity distracted her from noticing, "And for instance green, light green generally mean excitement but deep green generally denotes envy, seeing another's excitement or happiness and wanting to take it."

He kept his tone light, picking a stray thread from his cuff as if her response was of no importance to him, "And say for instance, lilac?"

"Oh, lilac is passion or desire, I assume for you it might occur if you were thinking of potions, something trivial that you are impassioned about but if you were -" she stopped mid-sentence, wide eyed and turning pinker by the second, realizing that she had just given herself away. In her excitement she had forgotten who she was dealing with, a Slytherin. Not just any Slytherin, the head of Slytherin, master of deception and cunning.

His smirk cut through her, he knew, or had an inkling of where her train of thought was leading her, "Oh don't stop Miss. Granger I believe you were on a roll." She pursed her lips and looked away from him. "If you don't finish I'll just have to invent my own reasoning behind the near black tone of your hair a few short days ago."

"It was not near black!"

His smirk widened, "Miss. Granger, it nearly rivaled my own hair, my, my what could you have been thinking about." She refused to look up at him, desperate to keep her thoughts to herself, not wanting to look into his eyes and see the self-satisfied quirk of his lip. "Let's see if I have the facts straight shall we?"

He stepped closer, within touching distance, she stared at his dragon hide boots, knowing she looked like a petulant child but she couldn't bring herself to look at his simpering face.

"The darker the shade of colour, the more indecent the emotion," he continued, another step closer, "Light purple means desire or passion, and your tresses were violet, as dark a purple you could fathom. It reasons that you were having … carnal desires," his voice caressed the words, making them sound far dirtier than she could have ever thought.

Hermione rivaled her best friend's hair with how crimson her entire face had become. The heat radiated from her and she knew that he could easily see how much effect he was having on her. The deep tenor of his voice sent a shiver of lust straight to her core. Had he always sounded so... well, sexy? Was he always so much taller than she was? Had he ever been as close to her as he was, close enough that she caught his scent, pine and mint and something deliciously masculine.

"What sorts of debased desires could be clouding the mind of Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked up at him, he really had changed since she'd last seen him. His face seemed fuller, not so sallow, and even slightly tanner. The deep bags under his eyes were gone and all that remained was the sharp ebony eyes and peered questioningly into her own. She faltered, unable to look away, unable to say anything as her throat dried. His eyes flickered to her lips as she darted out her tongue to moisten them.

Then they were back, looking as though he were trying to gaze into her mind without Legilimency. Surely, he noticed how dilated her pupils were, how her breathe had shortened and the pulse in her neck twitched at a feverish pace. Was he leaning down or was she leaning forward?

A sharp alarm broke their trance as her timer for the potion went off. He was gone in an instant, studying his journal once more as if nothing had occurred. Hermione bit her lip; she had nearly kissed Snape. Severus Snape, her former potions Professor, long time arch nemesis of her best friend. Okay, so they weren't enemies anymore but they certainly, were NOT friends. Not only that, but she had already decided that she would start purchasing her potions from him. She shouldn't, wouldn't, cross boundaries within her professional relationships, despite how the sound of his voice had her more sexually excited than she'd been in 2 years.

And despite how good he smelled, like wood and cool mint, winter personified. And especially despite how his rapt attention made her feel weak at the knees.

She went back to the potion and finished the final steps. It really was the best decision she could make. Heaven help her if any of her friends found out she was severely pissed that the timer had interrupted them just when it had. As soon as the stasis charm was cast, he was collecting his book and preparing to leave, it was clear there would not be another moment between them. She was both grateful and slightly hurt.

"Erm – Sir, I've signed the contract and would like to give you my first order. For next week of course," she handed him both the signed contract and a list of required potions for the following week.

He took both parchments from her, careful not to graze her fingertips, and pulled his outer robe around him tightly, "Until Sunday evening Miss. Granger."

She bit her lip, it was only right considering their business arrangement, "Hermione, Sir."

His eyes stayed on hers for a moment longer, she could sense him mulling over the invitation with trepidation, before he nodded once.

 **I wanted to thank all of you who have taken the time to review. It really does make it worth while knowing that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it. A little about me, I own a bakery and everyday I'm annoyed that I cant incorporate magic into my baked goods. Sort of where the idea came from.**

 **Cant wait to read more of your reviews :D xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday arrived at breakneck speed, the shop as busy as ever in the cool weeks of March. Despite this, Hermione felt for the first time refreshed and energized as the day drew to a close. This was the first week in over a year in which she hadn't lingered much past closing. There were even nights where she managed over 6 hours of sleep, hell she had even gone to a salon one evening and had her unmanageable curls tamed and trimmed.

With the burden of potions making off of her shoulders, she found quite a bit of spare time on her hands and had put some effort into taking care of herself. That morning she had gone for a run, took an extra long hot shower, and fastened her now loose curls in a small clip on the back of her head with a few loose tendrils framing her face. She'd even cast a warming charm to her legs and donned a white, cherry printed sundress. All of which had nothing to do with the fact that Severus would be making his delivery at the end of day.

She hummed a jaunty tune off-key and felt lighter than air as she bustled around her shop and grinned far more genuinely at every customer. At 6:50, the shop empty, Hermione couldn't help the knot of nervous anticipation that coiled inside of her. She chided herself mentally, he was delivering potions; this was not a social call.

Terri wiped the last table and flung the cloth over his shoulder, peering at his happier-than-normal boss questioningly, "Ok out with it. What's going on?"

Without looking up from her notebook, Hermione smiled slightly "What do you mean?"

"Ah! That right there! That sly little smile hanging on the edge of your lips all day," he strode over and closed her notebook, forcing her to look up with a quirked eyebrow. "Not to mention you look freshly showered, have had your hair done recently, and is that a push up bra?"

Hermione blushed furiously and smacked his arm with the notebook, "You know if you don't watch yourself I'll call Maggie and tell her exactly what you're noticing at work."

He scoffed, "Don't try to change the subject, you know she adores you and would never be jealous of you." He glanced over Hermione once more and smirked, "You know if I didn't know any better I'd say you have a date."

He walked around the counter and rinsed out the rag with some water and a quick scourgify, "But if you did, why wouldn't you tell me?" he pondered more to himself than to Hermione. "Unless it was with someone a little unconventional, a little … dark," he looked directly at her as he said this, and Hermione fought against the flush that was threatening to rise to her cheeks.

"For your information, I do NOT have a date, I merely have had some more time to look respectable for my customers and my shop," she said with a poke to his chest. "And even if I DID have a date, I wouldn't have to share it with you or anyone, nor would it be with anyone untoward or unconventional."

Terri smirked at her, "Alright no need to get so defensive." He glanced past her, to the front window and walked towards the stairs to the basement with a lingering grin, "I think your date's here."

Hermione whipped her head around about to retort when a cloaked figure walked into her shop, three boxes levitated behind him. The comment died in her throat and she put on a smile, "Good evening, Sir. Prompt as ever."

With a flourish of her wand, the curtains drew closed and the front door locked behind him, her shop officially closed for the evening. He withdrew his hood and nodded to her in greeting, "Miss- Hermione," he said a little uncertainly. "I trust you've had a restful week."

The sound of Terri bounding up the steps drew their attention away from one another. He glanced between the pair and smiled with a slight shake of his head, "Good evening Professor, it is good to see you again and in such good health."

Snape eyed Terri thoughtfully for a moment before extending his hand, "Mister Boot, I hear congratulations are in order, a tad late."

Hermione hid a smile behind her hand as the two shook rather awkwardly; who would have thought their dour Professor would do something as socially obligatory as congratulations for the birth of a child. Terri caught sight of the snicker and grinned widely at the older man, "Well thank you Sir. It really has been a life changer for the best. I keep telling Hermione that she should find a good man to share such a joy with as well."

"Terri!"

"Wonderful to see you Sir," he said with a final smirk and was nearly out the door as he tossed over his shoulder, "See you Tuesday Hermione!"

Hermione shook her head, cheeks burning slightly as she came out from behind her counter to help Severus with the inventory he'd brought. "Sorry about him, he can overstep the boundaries from time to time but he's a great employee."

He assisted her in opening the boxes and checking off every item on the inventory list. "I wouldn't dream of telling you how to run your business, but if he worked for me, there are a few spells I wouldn't hesitate in casting throughout his next shift," his frown held a serious air but the mirth that glinted in his eyes betrayed his playful intentions making Hermione chuckle.

"Yes well, if I were him I wouldn't accept so much as a tea from me for the next while," she said with another light laugh.

"And so fortunate that you now have such an adept potion's master at your side," he drawled.

Hermione smiled and handed him a signed copy of the invoice and kept one for her own records, "Yes, and so humble he is too."

Severus snorted and took the paper, vanishing it to wherever it need be, "What's the point of being good at something if you can't brag about it now and then."

Hermione swallowed hard as her thoughts drifted to some other activities he might have a propensity for. Surely his hands would be rather skilled in plucking her clit into a wild frenzy. Or his scathing tongue laving over each nipple, drawing them to hard pebbles beneath its attention.

She cleared her throat in hopes to also clear her thoughts, "Yes well, everything seems to be in order. The funds were transferred to your vault this morning. I can't even begin to tell you how much this has eased my work load."

His gaze drifted down, raking over every inch of her form and leaving her feeling bare. She equally wished she had worn something more modest, and thrived in the knowledge that he was ogling her, "Yes, I can see you've had sometime to _indulge_ in yourself."

The way he caressed the word 'indulge' nearly made her breath catch in her throat. She was playing in dangerous waters with a dangerous beast that she knew very little of. His eyes held hers, full of dark promises and unspoken desire, but too soon did those eyes glaze over as his occulumency shields rose.

"Have a pleasant evening, Hermione." He spun on his heel and was striding to the door, his hood already raised.

"Wait!" She called out past her better judgment, "Would you like to get a drink?" He paused at the door, one hand on the handle. Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes, "Think of it as a toast to our new partnership?"

She waited a heartbeat before opening her eyes and seeing him staring at her curiously. "I don't do public places," he said stiffly.

"My place then?" she blurted out. There was a drumming in her ears as silence filled the space between them. Stupid, stupid Hermione, this is a bad idea, a very bad stupid idea. But it was just a drink… in her flat… alone.

"That sounds… acceptable," he finally said, his eyes staying fastened to hers.

Hermione nodded briefly and excused herself momentarily to shut down any final appliances and all the lights. Throughout this, his eyes stayed glued to her, the feel of his watchful gaze making her hands tremble. He made no move to distance himself from the front door, as if he might change his mind at any moment and leave without warning.

When she had flipped the chairs of the shop with a flourish of her wrist, wandlessly and wordlessly, his penetrating stare changed to an eye roll, "Still showing off for the least bit of appraisal I see."

Hermione smirked at him as she walked past him to the door and echoed. "What's the point of being good at something if you can't brag about it now and then?"

His whispered 'touche' put a grin on her face as she stepped out of the shop and beckoned him to follow. After she had cast her usual wards and protective spells, she led him directly up the staircase adjacent to the shops door.

What she was not ready for was the surreal nature of him standing in the middle of her den, eyeing her mantel with a slight sneer. There were several pictures, some of her parents, one of the Order during her sixth year, and the rest of Harry, Ron, and herself and their respective families.

Crookshanks, as old and graying as he was, lunged at the Professor's legs as he had entered the flat, nearly causing him to trip, and he had cursed the cat several times since. Hermione had gently chastised the being and told it to play nice. The cat now sat on his bed in the corner of the den, yellow eyes following the dark stranger with a restless flick of his tail.

Hermione returned to the room and offered him a tumbler of firewhiskey, partaking in some elf wine herself since she was not the hardiest drinker, "I figured you could handle your liquor far better than I."

He thanked her and rose his glass, "To a burgeoning partnership."

She smiled and clinked her wine glass to his, "To thriving businesses." They each took a sip, and Hermione eyed him as he continued to glare at the photos.

"You remain friends with the two dunderheads who nearly killed you on several occasions?" he sat on the white love seat nearest to him. The stark contrast of his dark attire and equally dark countenance nearly made her giggle as she took a seat next to him.

"It would be impossible now to untangle our lives the way that fate has knotted us up together," she said with a fond smile. It was true they did not see each other as often as they used to, but her love for both boys warmed her just as surely as the day all three of them stood on the battlefield at Hogwarts. A flash of Severus' bleeding, broken body jolted to the forefront of her mind and she bit down the bile that rose with it.

He snorted in response, "Fate; that cruel bitch doesn't deserve a grateful smile such as yours." He took another gulp of his drink, pensively staring at the bottom of the glass.

Hermione accioed both bottles of liquor to the table in front of them and topped off his glass. "If I can understand anyone's displeasure with the hands of fate, it's yours Sir." She offered him a small smile before changing the subject, asking him about his work and latest potions adventures.

Halfway into the firewhiskey and nearly empty bottle of wine, Hermione was feeling quite light headed and equally free tongued. If it weren't for the slight tinge of pink to Severus' cheeks, she would have thought he was unaffected by the drink entirely.

"I have to admit I was pleased to hear you didn't end up with that Weasley boy," he emptied the remaining elf wine into her glass with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Good god! One kiss in the battle and two weeks of dating following that and you'd think we were engaged with the way those gossip rags droned on about us."

Severus chuckled into his drink, "You were all anyone in the wizarding world could talk about, especially in 's while I was in recovery." He drained his glass, "And being unable to speak for those first weeks I couldn't even tell them off for their inane, sordid commentary."

Despite his playful tone, Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. They had left him alone in that shack, and here he was, sharing a drink with her on her couch as if she hadn't nearly signed the death warrant herself.

He caught her change in demeanor and tipped her chin up so he was looking into her eyes, "Hermione?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, her guilt after these years scorching through her soul as she gripped his hand in both of hers, "I am so sorry, Sir. W-we thought… I mean the attack was… s-so brutal and there w-was so much blood…"

Her thoughts were spilling forwards, jumbled and confused, only made more inarticulate by her sobs. A moment passed where he said nothing, and then something she couldn't anticipate happened; he pulled her to his chest and hugged her near crushingly, and she clung to him, crying into his shirt as he stroked her hair.

With each sob, she felt her heart lighten, as if a weight she had been carrying was suddenly lessened. It was sometime before her crying eased and she was able to pry herself from his damp chest and look up at him.

He was staring at her with a puzzled expression, "Hermione, what happened to me was not your fault." She felt the tears rise again and he cut them off with a harsher tone, "Enough, I've indulged your tears but not again. The Dark Lord is the only one to blame in this mess. You, Potter, and Weasley had your roles to play and I had mine."

He pulled his hand from hers, "It is fortunate we each played our parts as well as we did and put an end to him that night. Despite the sacrifices and losses we all sustained, we are far better off now than we were then."

Hermione sighed and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks, "No one would ever deny that, but I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for leaving you to die in that shack. It felt wrong and I left anyways." She drained what was left of her wine, willing the image of his blood on her hands, as Harry handed her the vial of memories, to disappear.

Severus added a generous measure of firewhiskey to her glass, "There is nothing to forgive. The one who should ask forgiveness now rots in the darkest pits of hell for all eternity and if we're lucky a little longer."

Hermione wheezed at the first sip, coughing and sputtering as the drink scorched her throat. Severus chuckled, "Come now, it's not that bad."

"That's easy for you to say, you've got years of experience with this stuff," she said lowering the drink with a scowl.

A glint flashed in his eyes, "Was that a crack at my age, Miss. Granger?" Hermione giggled, their earlier conversation fading from her thoughts as he eyed her with that mischievous look.

"If you insist on referring to me as Miss. Granger, I can't help that I imagine the great bat of the dungeons lurking over my shoulder," Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth and stared at him wide eyed.

He placed his glass on the table and gave her a look that sent a fresh coating of moisture to her thin panties. "Bat of the dungeons? My, my … if you were still my student I would think that severe punishment was in order for such disrespect." The hand that had been resting casually on the couch near her head twined its way into her curls and gave a soft tug. "In fact some corporeal punishment might be in order to get the message to … sink in."

His face was so close to hers now, his breath ghosting across her pulse point that beat like an ensnared rabbit's. Hermione swallowed hard, unable to deny how much she wanted him. It had been several months since her last tryst and a woman can only self satisfy for so long.

She whispered, desperate not to break whatever trance had come over them so instantaneously, "In this instance, Sir, I would need correction often."

He pulled back slightly and stared into her eyes, wide and open to him and conveying just how much she desired this to continue. "It's Severus," he growled. A startled moan was ripped from her as he crushed his lips to hers.

Immediately, she wrapped both arms around his neck, pressing herself to him more insistently. Teeth scraped, tongues dueled, and each battled for dominance, each as hungry and needy as the other. It was not perfect, as wine and whiskey will often make sloppy partners, and she could taste the remnant of her earlier tears stain their kiss with salt, but by gods she had never felt this level of intensity as he yanked her head back and latched onto her neck like leech.

She groaned and ground herself against his growing erection, taking initiative and straddling him now as he continued to lick and suck her neck. He was harsh, bruising as his fingers dug into her hips and he guided her to slide and rub against his hardness.

The room was filled with the sounds of their panting and occasional moans, groans, and growls of satisfaction. But just as quickly and heatedly as it had started, Severus pulled back, holding her hips away from him. "Stop…. stop."

Hermione let out a mewl of displeasure but lifted herself off of him and sat beside him once more, willing her racing heart to slow. The feel of his lips lingered, the taste of him and her salty tears hung on her tongue, making her far more inebriated than the drink.

"We should … not continue something we may regret in the morning," he said carefully.

Hermione swallowed her disappointment and hurt feelings with a nod. He was right, as new business associates, this evening should never have happened. She couldn't help but want to get to know him more and fuck, those kisses… She shook the thought away and stood, grabbing her wand from the table. Grateful she was adept at transfiguration, even in her state, she transformed the sofa into a soft downy bed with matching white sheets.

"Please Severus, we've both had far too much to drink and I would hate to have my Potioneer splinch himself," she smiled softly and after a moment he nodded. "The loo is through that door, and should you need me," she blushed, "my bedroom is through there."

He cleared his throat and rose from the now bed, "Thank you Hermione, and goodnight." Without touching her, although she could've sworn she saw his hand twitch in a motion towards her, he escaped to the loo and she knew he wouldn't come out until he had heard her bedroom door shut.

Crookshanks' yellow eyes glowered displeasingly and Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh shove it, Crooks."


	5. Chapter 5

Severus woke, swaddled in a plethora of white silky sheets, head cradled by soft pillows, with a resounding headache. Despite the constant thrumming behind his left eye, he felt more rested than he had in weeks. Through the fog of his sleep induced brain, he vaguely recalled having drunk far too much the night before.

His heart skidded to a halt as he remembered exactly whose vanilla scented sheets cocooned him. Bolting straight up in the make shift bed she had transfigured for him, Severus quickly took in the sunlight peeking through the shades, the bedroom door still closed, and his morning erection pressing insistently against him. It gave a throb as he remembered the way she had climbed into his lap and frotted against him like a horny teenager.

Who the hell was he trying to kid, he had thrust back, overwhelmed with desire for the young attractive witch sleeping in the next room. He dug the heels of his palms to his eyes, willing the vision of her plump lips parted in a sultry 'o' as he suckled her neck to be scrubbed from his memory. A gentle purring to his left shook him from his thoughts.

The orange beast that had nearly killed him lay curled at his side; eyes closed and tail swaying gently. How dare the little creature snuggle up to him after attacking him on sight mere hours before?! Against his initial reaction to toss the menace to the floor, he grumbled and rose to use the loo.

Thankfully his morning problem had deflated, making his morning routine much easier and far less messy. As he conjured some toiletries and attempted to make himself somewhat presentable, his thoughts drifted. He couldn't say he was entirely surprised with the events that had transpired. The attraction was palpable between them. Her blushing cheeks, the way her breathing would race when he drew close to her, it was all rather obvious.

But what was not so obvious was the why? He scowled at his reflection, as if he could somehow intimidate it into something more pleasing. Severus Snape had no delusions in thinking he was attractive. His teeth were still crooked, though he did take up some whitening potions every now and then, his nose still overly large and crooked, his skin though less sallow still pale, his hair hung lank by his face, once jet black now peppered with some grey around his temples, another reminder of how old he was.

On top of it all, the left side of his neck was covered in several puncture mark scars from that thrice accursed snake. As if he wasn't ugly enough, he was torn apart and stitched together again like one of Frankenstein's monsters. The faded Dark Mark stared back at him mockingly, he was a monster; and he was a monster more so for wanting so desperately to taint her with his presence.

And yet she desired him, if her mewls and whimpers of satisfaction were any indication, a great deal. The echoes of her pleasure would surely be ingrained in his mind forever and for good reason since she would probably be horrified now her drunken stupor had passed.

He huffed and transfigured his robes into a green turtle neck sweater, warm enough for the mild weather. Secretly, he hoped she would still be asleep so he could sneak out without notice, but instantly chastised himself for the idea; she was not some knockturn alley trollop. Hell, they hadn't even done anything to warrant this sort of behavior. He had slept on her couch after a few too many drinks… and nearly taken her right there.

The sight he was greeted by as he left her bathroom constricted his chest and pants in good measure. Hermione was very much awake and tending to her morning coffee on her kitchen barstool, in the smallest pair of shorts he'd ever seen and a tank top in which she certainly was not wearing a bra under.

She looked up and smiled, her eyes drifting over his chest almost lazily and he was so grateful for Minerva's transfiguration tutelage in his youth. "Good morning, Severus. You look… nice," she said with another once over.

The tightening in his trousers grew at her appraisal and he cleared his throat, whether to draw her attention away or his own he wasn't sure, "And you look quite… comfortable." She glanced down and blushed brilliantly and he smirked, enjoying her embarrassment all the more because she really had no reason to be.

"I could change…" she made to rise and he stopped her with a lifted hand.

"Hermione, far be it from me to tell you how to dress in your own home," he eyed her once more, was it possible for someone so short to have such long legs? They looked smooth to the touch and by gods her nipples were hard and poking through her thin tank top so teasingly. He looked back to her face, forcing his swelling away.

She flicked her wand and poured a second cup of coffee for herself and another for him, pushing a stool back so he could join her. A muscle in his jaw twitched, he should leave, he should tell her this was a mistake and leave before he was drawn in further. What was it about young innocent Gryffindors that made walking away nearly impossible?

And there it was; the smile. It was radiant and honest without a hint of malice or cunning. Just a genuine offering of happiness and directed at him; the sun be damned if he could have this smile light up his every morning. He sneered and took the offered seat, now he was waxing poetically about her; he could string himself up for letting her get so snugly under his skin.

She seemed jolted by his sudden change and looked down into her cup nervously, "I hope the bed was alright." He said nothing, still mocking his own soft heart as he took a sip of his black coffee; black like what was left of his shriveled heart. She deserved more. "I don't get much practice with transfiguration but I do like to keep brushed up on the latest articles. Did you know Minerva has started submitting her works? It's been rather fascinating and I don't know where she gets the time with Headmistress duties on top of it all but-"

"I should have known you were a morning person," he said cutting her off mid sentence. He looked up and felt a stab of arousal as she worried her lower lip with a hurt look. Those lips that were pressed so firmly and desperately to his own, he wondered idly how they would taste now they were cleansed of her tears. He offered her a slight half smile, "I'm not used to sharing my mornings with anyone and even you cannot be surprised at my disposition, bats are nocturnal after all."

She groaned and buried her head in her hands with a smile, "Oh god did I actually say that last night?"

Severus smirked behind his coffee mug, "Oh yes, right after calling me old I should add."

Hermione blushed and laughed, "Well Severus, I think we should chalk up what was said to far too much Ogden's." She looked up through her lashes at him and his heart thundered to an erratic pace, "And for the record, you are not old."

Severus snorted, fighting against every urge that was telling him to lean over now and snog her senseless, "I didn't think Gryffindor's knew how to lie."

She swatted his arm playfully, "And I thought all Slytherin's were arrogant prats."

"Only half of that is correct," he drawled with a serious expression.

She burst into giggles, and his chest tightened again with the tinkering sound. He needed to leave before his chest exploded in his effort to control this feeling inside of him. The urge to throw her up on the counter and ravish her until she screamed his name for all to hear was only met by his desire to hold her close and take his time in exploring her soft body, memorizing every inch to his hearts satisfaction.

When her giggles subsided and he was left with her radiant smile once more, eyes dancing with mirth, he decided getting his heart involved would be but another way fate would terrorize him in his peaceful solitude once more. "I should leave."

Before she could protest he stood and gathered his wand from the table, already headed for the door. "Severus wait!"

He sighed and paused at her door, knowing he should storm out and put as much distance between them as humanly possible. She padded over to him with that damned outfit nearly breaking his resolve as he eyed her petite form. Occulumency came naturally to him as his walls slid into place, his stoic expression making her worry her lip once more.

Her eyes were determined when she looked up at him again, fierce and formidable as he knew her to be and it only made his cock harden, "I just want you to know, that – that I don't regret anything that was done last night."

There it was; the elephant in the room that only a bloody Gryffindor would tackle head on. He sneered as menacingly as he could manage, "You should, Granger. You should be horrified to remember how I accosted you while you were drunk."

"Accosted?" she said with a growl as fire sparked beneath her chestnut eyes. "I hardly think anyone should think you took advantage of me when you were just as drunk, and, if my memory serves me correctly, I climbed on you." She crossed her arms, her nipples still hard and now thrust up towards him, "If anything I took advantage of you," she finished with a hard poke to his chest.

His eyes whipped to hers, "You? You think anyone would have any delusions to believe that a young attractive woman would take advantage of a rundown old dark ugly wizard?"

She had the nerve to roll her eyes, "You're not dark nor are you ugly, you never were."

Something snapped in him, be it her defiance or those too short shorts showing off her smooth lean legs, but whatever it was had her pressed against her door, a hand on her throat and the other holding her wand hand to her side, "Make no assumption about my character Granger, I was and am a dark wizard. I am tainted by dark magic. I have committed unforgivable acts and reveled in them. To this day I cannot help but be drawn to the darkness."

He squeezed her throat, feeling her rapid heartbeat, her eyes locked to his, fear and arousal shining back to him in a way that made his cock stiffen to full attention in an instant. "My … appetites would repulse you and you would run from me," he pressed himself against her, "and rightfully so."

She moaned through his grip as his erection rubbed against her stomach. The sound shook him from the sweet voices in his ear telling him to fuck her against the door. He pulled away from her as if he'd been burned, she deserved more than him, better than him. Without another look to her, he shoved her from the door and stormed out.

The headache had returned to full jackhammer strength as he apparated to his home, thrumming an agonizing pain through his head that he would not ease with a potion; he deserved this.

 **Hey guys :D shorter chapter today but I wanted to give you a little snippet of Snape's thoughts (since you've all been asking) and what a delicious little chapter that sprung up. Please Review guys as it certainly encourages me to write more and also fills my head with different scenarios to share with you all.**

 **Thanks for reading xo**


	6. Chapter 6

To say Hermione was annoyed would be an understatement. As each day passed her annoyance grew to irritation, and when the days bled into weeks she was positively livid. Thoughts of a certain stubborn dark wizard consumed her when she wasn't running around her shop and dealing with the monotonous day to days.

Currently, she was glaring moodily into her drink as Ginny grumbled on about one family problem or another and Luna offered her fairly lucid advice from time to time. It was the first time in months Hermione had been free to go out on a Saturday night and instead of enjoying the atmosphere in the jazzy muggle bar Ginny had chosen, she was thinking about HIM.

Since she had been unceremoniously tossed from her front door, staring mouth agape in indignation at his disapperating figure, she had not received more than a professional business response and he certainly hadn't the nerve to show his face for delivery. No, instead some gawky, awkward, fawning teenager was sent in his place; a courier service. The insensitive cad would rather PAY someone else to deliver her products than to face her again.

A third round of drinks was brought over from their overly bubbly waitress and Hermione vehemently squeezed the lemon wedge into her whiskey sour, imagining Severus' stupid scowling face in its place.

Ginny's laughter rang out, "Ok Hermione, spill it, what's got your knickers in a twist this evening?"

"Nothing," Hermione lied before taking a long sip, draining nearly half the glass.

"Really?" Ginny smirked with such a likeness to the greasy git Hermione scowled, "Because you've barely said ten words since we've arrived and you're knocking those drinks back like a pro."

Hermione fidgeted in her sea, uncomfortable with lying to her friend but not caring to divulge her interest in their former Potions Professor just yet, "It's a guy."

Ginny's eyes widened comically and Luna leaned forward with a dreamy smile. It was predictable, and silly, and school girlish but instantly Hermione felt a weight lift from her chest. She needed to share this; she needed someone else to give her some perspective, even if they didn't know who it was they were talking about.

"Well don't just sit there girl! Who is he? How long has it been going on?" Ginny demanded fiercely.

"You've been infested with nargles all night, it makes so much sense now," Luna pondered aloud with an affirmative nod.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head at how little they had changed, and yet how much they'd all grown. "I can't tell you who he is, but it's been barely going on for a month, if you can call it "going on" with a few heated snogs."

Ginny whistled and Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to her redheaded friend to gasp, scowl, and smirk in all the right places as Hermione told her tale of how they met and the subsequent meetings that followed. Carefully, she omitted any details that might give away his identity and filled in the gaps with a few white lies. When she was through, both friends were studying her, Luna with a contemplative smile, and Ginny with a frown and fire behind her eyes.

"He _tossed_ you from the door and disapperated?" Ginny all but shouted. A few patrons of the club turned and glared at their table.

Hermione gave Ginny a pointed look, "Yes _Ginerva_. He left and I haven't seen him since. I don't know what to do."

"You _want_ to see him again?"

"Ginny this is tough enough without your judgment on top of it all. I can't explain it, he's … not like anyone else I've met. The attraction is … off the charts," Hermione said with a faraway look. She could still recall the way he had pressed her against the door, his obvious erection grinding against her, and those lips that had been acerbic and degrading in her youth, moving against her own in a way that made her delirious with arousal.

Ginny snorted, "Sounds like a tosser."

"So we know him?" Luna inquired with a thoughtful grin.

Hermione paled slightly, "Well… I mean … no?"

Luna's grin became triumphant, "We do, and you won't share who it is because we won't approve."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands and blushed a furious shade of scarlet. And leave it to Luna to be far too observant for Hermione's own good.

"Well the only people we wouldn't approve of are Slytherins," Ginny said taking a gulp of her own pink concoction. Her eyes immediately went wide as she spat half the drink back onto the table. "OH God, it's not Malfoy is it?!" she choked out.

Hermione smirked, "Which one?" Both girls turned pale and Hermione burst out laughing, "Oh that was rich. It's not EITHER Malfoy and you should probably stop there."

The two girls looked at one another, a silent agreement to continue their guessing when not in Hermione's presence passed between them.

Hermione shook her head and smiled, "Trust me, its better you don't know. But I need to know what to do next; I can't even apologize because he never comes by!"

"Apologize?!" Ginny exclaimed, another wave of glares and a few hushing sounds greeted her and she childishly stuck her tongue out at a particularly haughty looking muggle. "Don't you dare apologize to that git, HE should apologize to YOU."

Hermione snorted, "That's unlikely."

"What does he pride himself on most?" Luna asked rather unexpectedly. "Looks? Money? Status?"

Another unladylike snort escaped Hermione as she downed what was left of her nearly forgotten whiskey sour, "The only thing that man gives a damn about is his…" Hermione trailed off, her mind whirling at an alarming pace as an idea burst forth like a freight train.

A slow smile curled Hermione's lips, "Luna, you are a genius."

Luna shared a rare knowing smirk, "Just above average."

Ginny frowned, "Did I miss something here?"

But Hermione was no longer listening, her mind buzzing away at every possible outcome of her scheme to get the potions master to come to her. It seemed likely this would explode in her face, but doing nothing at all was going to drive her insane before too long. No, it was time to apply a little Slytherin cunning to snag the Head Snake himself.

 **Hey guys, I have been pretty busy at the shop recently but I have not stopped thinking about this story. A short chapter today but I hope to have a longer one typed up tomorrow and YES our dear Severus will most certainly be involved. I cant wait to see your reviews :D**


	7. Chapter 7

Severus Snape was not a man of rash action. He was not a head strong Gryffindor who charged stupidly forward without a plan of definitive action to rely upon. Even so, he strode with purpose down Diagon Alley, hood pulled tightly around him to conceal his face, without much of an idea of how this meeting would end. All he could feel was the throb in his temple and the heat radiating from his skin in waves of abject fury.

He clenched his fist around the scrap of parchment in his robes. This insufferable, pompous little bint was going to be the end of him he was certain. His strides lengthened and hurried as he scowled irritably, weaving his way through the somewhat busy streets. Yes, he could have apparated closer, but his lack of decision on which course of action to take left him rattled. He needed to clear his mind.

There was no way in hell or hades that anything had been different about this latest batch of potions. He was a bloody potions _master_ not some second rate potioneer without even an apprenticeship under his belt. Tighter he squeezed the note, unable to shake the mocking neat cursive that swam just behind his mind's eye.

Severus,

A customer has recently brought to my attention the ineffectiveness of the Pepperup Peppermint Patties as of late. I cannot tell you how disappointing this is since we've never had complaints before. We try to hold our products to a higher standard and if you are unable to meet them, then we may need to look for a new provider. Please let me know if the work load has become too much for you and we can come to another arrangement.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Severus growled low in his throat as he wound his way through the busy streets. How dare the little chit dare insinuate his potions were not outstanding in every way? He had tried to stay away, ignore the bait he knew this letter to be, but as the days passed his mood grew more and more irritable to the point where his every thought was consumed by her and that damned loopy scrawl.

A quick tempus showed that any moment she would be closing her shop for the night. He waited in an alcove across the street, watched as the last customers trickled from her shop, saw the blinds lower, and before she could close the doors he made his way over.

His anger rolled off of him as he slammed the door open. Hermione had started, clearly not expecting anyone to enter, and without turning called out, "I'm sorry but we're closed."

Heat flooded his chest; she was bent at the waist, her short yellow dress riding up deliciously so, and giving him a peak of the top lace of her garters. In an instant he was rock hard and immensely glad for the layers he insisted upon.

She went stock still as she turned and looked him over, "Oh, I was not expecting you Sir." Her tone was clipped and professional, her eyes coming to a full blaze. She was glorious in her anger, arms folded, offering up her perky breasts to his leisurely view, brows drawn together and downwards, and her mouth set in a firm line.

For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to snog her senseless, to use that righteous indignation as fuel to his lust. She'd whimper, attempt to push him from her but he would push harder, until she was clinging to him desperately and grinding herself against his throbbing cock.

Pushing his lustful thoughts aside, he sneered, "I dare think you expected me, ." He tossed her note, worn from obsessive reading, onto the nearest table, "Explain this."

"I thought the note in and of itself was self explanatory."

He growled low and slammed his fist over it, " _THIS_ is a load of bollocks."

Her lips quirked slightly before she managed to compose herself which only fanned his irritation, "Language, Sir. I'm simply passing along the critiques that I've received."

"You dare assume that the potions _you_ brewed previous to me were of higher quality?" he hissed.

Hermione's nose pinched in irritation and he couldn't help feeling a cheer of triumph in his chest; he wanted to hurt her, "I'll have you know I received Outstanding in my Potions OWL and graduated top of the class at my University."

"Oh yes I know. The Golden Girl, Gryffindor's Princess, The Swot Who Lived, graduated with flawless marks. I wonder how much was earned and what was simply gratitude and celebrity worship from your sniveling Professors," he spat, loving how fire roared to life behind her whiskey coloured eyes, tinged with a hint of doubt.

"How DARE you?!" She stepped forward, poking his breast bone roughly, "I earned every mark. I worked myself into the ground to graduate top of my class despite people following my every move to catch me slipping up just once!"

He grabbed the offending finger against him, "Watch yourself, ."

Hermione was too far gone; he could see the anger and pent up frustration just beyond the surface. It titillated him in a way that was certainly unhealthy. His cock gave a throb of approval.

"Perhaps, _Sir_ , you simply cannot keep up with the demand-"

He sneered viciously and gripped her finger harder, yanking her closer, "Do NOT finish that thought, I can keep up with whatever you throw Granger, and this," he shook the paper in her face before wandlessly and wordlessly incinerating it, "This is nothing but drivel. Perhaps it is your spell work that needs brushing up."

Her fury blazed hotter, "Perhaps in your advancing age and stressful past, you simply aren't up to the tasks you once were."

There was a heartbeat, a long slow beat of time where the vexation and offense radiated between them. Oh he was very much up for any task. When her eyes darted to his lips for the briefest of seconds, the dam broke.

He crashed his lips to hers, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and biting it roughly. Walking her backwards, he lifted her effortlessly onto a nearby table and tangled his hands in her hair as he continued to ravish her.

Lust flooded him, all he could feel was the overwhelming desire to bite and suck and grope every inch of this infuriating woman until she was a whimpering, moaning, submissive puddle. Despite what he had originally thought, she did not push him away, she did not fight him. Instead, she groaned and immediately slid her hands into his hair, kissing him back with an ardor he'd never known could be directed at him.

She was like an octopus, legs and arms wrapped around him in an inescapable grip as she ground herself against the bulge he could not control in front of her. It had been weeks since he'd last orgasmed. Anytime he'd taken himself in hand he'd unwittingly thought of her breathless sighs, the taste of her lips, her sweet vanilla scent, and he'd immediately stopped, disgusted with himself.

But now, as she rubbed herself wantonly against him, her breathy little moans against his lips, he really wish he had rubbed one out before leaving. He wouldn't last long, especially if she continued to scrape her nails against his scalp just so.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when her hands dropped, but immediately he was left mouth agape as she tugged at the belt of his trousers, "Hermione-"

She cut out his protest with a firm kiss, her fingers making quick work of his fly, and pulled his leaking cock from its confines. He hissed in pleasure against her, the warmth and unfamiliar tug of her hand making him nearly burst right there. Curiously, she stroked him, her hand mapping out his length, every ridge, every vein, rubbing the precum over his head with her palm.

His breathing was ragged when she shifted to the edge of the table, lifted her dress and tugged aside her black panties. There it was, his first glimpse of her glistening pink mound, clit protruding and just begging to be flicked and rubbed, he could feel his balls tug upward in warning.

"Hermione I wont-"

"Just fuck me."

His heart raced, those words from his former prim and proper student nearly sent him over the edge as she lined his aching cock against her opening. In one smooth thrust he was inside of her, the entirety of his prick surrounded by her wet, clenching, heat. He rested his head against hers, breathing in and out slowly through gritted teeth as he attempted to stave off the inevitable.

She was too tight, too unbelievably hot around him, he was not going to last any significant amount of time, certainly not enough to make her cum. He looked into her eyes and saw his own lust reflected at him, unadulterated and raw in its need.

He started to rock against her, reveling in her gasps. Her heels pressed against his backside, urging him deeper and faster. He grimaced, this was going to be embarrassingly quick but if she wanted harder he would happily oblige.

He gripped her hips through her dress and thrusting in and out of her as fast as his hips could snap forward. The way her eyes shot open wide and her mouth fell into a wide 'o' was its own mental satisfaction. He would make her cum, not this time, but he needed to see her eyes roll in pleasure almost as much as he needed to burst in her.

The table rocked precariously with his fast tempo but he held her tight kissing her roughly as he slammed into her tight heat over and over. It was rising, quickly, he could feel it as she whimpered and rocked back against him.

He growled and bit down on her lip as every pleasure sense in his brain fired off all at once. Cum poured from him, burst after burst into her welcoming little pussy until he nearly collapsed against her with the exertion of it all.

Vaguely he could feel her hands rubbing his back slowly, and if he were being honest it was not unpleasant, but it certainly made him uncomfortable. He pulled back, his cock slipping from her and leaving a trail of cum in its wake, making a mess of her table and floor.

"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed by just how much was spilling from her.

She laughed breathlessly and leaned back on the table with a lazy grin, "I'm not. That was perfect."

Perfect? She hadn't even cum. Clearly she was appeasing his bruised ego, but to what purpose. "Hermione, I'm very aware that it was far too quick to satisfy you," he growled low as he tucked himself away and vanished the mess.

Her smile never wavered, her legs still spread and thong still pushed aside so he could see the evidence of his lust dripping slowly out of her, "It was still very good, and I'm sure next time will be even better."

His heart leapt into his throat. Next time? She wanted more after his abysmal performance? He scrutinized her face, looking for any hint of deceit, but she was an open book, one that apparently wanted another round.

Hermione smiled, that dazzlingly open, honest smile tinted with sexual satisfaction and if he hadn't just spilled himself inside of her, he would have no doubt that he would be rock hard once more. He pulled her up from the table and tilted her chin, bestowing a soft kiss to her sweet lips that dared to smile at him so.

"I think I owe you dinner," he said with a playful smirk.

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled, "I thought you 'don't do public places'."

"I think, I shall start making a few exceptions," he said and held out a hand to her. Her eyes softened, causing his traitorous heart to lurch again, before she took his hand. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he was too ugly, too scarred, too broken for such a woman. But when she smiled, he simply didn't care.

 **:D :D So?... What did you think? I think I may end this story here and perhaps do an epilogue. Please Please read and review you lovely people xo**


	8. Chapter 8

"There were no complaints about my potions were there?"

Hermione flushed, hiding it as well as she could manage behind her wine glass. "I'm surprised it took you this long to figure out. I thought it would have been obvious the moment I sent the note."

He snorted into his own glass, taking a measurable gulp before responding, "I had a feeling, but couldn't withhold my ego being so scorned."

Hermione giggled softly, spearing the rather delicious ricotta stuffed agnolotti and popping it into her mouth. The restaurant was quiet that evening, only a handful of other patrons were littered throughout the room and yet they nearly fell over themselves to stare when they were escorted to their table.

Even years after the war, everyone loved to catch a glimpse of the golden trio, and one currently out and about with the revered Severus Snape was too much to contain themselves. Luckily the owner, at the request of her dark haired guest, led them somewhere semiprivate to enjoy each other's company.

"Well, Severus, I for one am ever grateful to your over inflated ego," she said with a daring smirk.

He answered with one of his own, "As am I."

After their meal had passed in amicable light conversation, a bottle of wine depleted between the two of them, Severus ordered a crème brulee to split between them.

As the server left, Hermione couldn't help but to let another wry smirk to grace her features, "Severus Snape enjoys dessert? What the students at Hogwarts during your time wouldn't have given to know that."

His thumb, hand previously resting on the table innocuously close to her own, ghosted across the back of her hand sensually, "I think, Hermione, you will find there are a great many pleasures that I enjoy."

The deep baritone of his voice, whispered low so no prying ears could catch what was said, nearly stroked her bare skin itself. The feel of his cock roughly slamming into her immediately came to the forefront of her mind and nearly made her whimper.

His eyes bore into hers, and she knew he could see what she was thinking, regardless of his Legilimency. Her breathing quickened slightly, the gentle ghosting of his thumb never ceasing as he stared into her. Heat rose to her cheeks, flushed not with embarrassment but with desire. He knew and continued his gentle stroking, fanning the flames of her arousal with a miniscule touch.

The dessert arriving startled the pair, each pulling their hands apart. Severus was the first to crack the surface of it and take the first bite. A low moan rumbled from his chest, making Hermione clench her thighs shut as a wave of fluid coated the ache between her legs. "Now that is divine."

Hermione dug in to keep from groaning aloud at the wizard's obvious delight. She was already wound up from their previous bout of quick hard sex on her patrons' table (something she had NEVER done before), and now he was making the most delicious of little sounds and expressions as he enjoyed practically the whole dish on his own. Hermione could barely swallow through her need, and the hunger she felt needed a different sort of nourishment.

When the last morsel had been scooped and savored, his dark eyes fastened on hers, "You didn't have much… "

She laughed lightly, "Well I get more than enough sweets at the shop not that that would have mattered. I feared for the safety of my hand near your sweet treat."

A small blush rose to his cheeks that he quickly quashed with a smirk, "I promise, Hermione, I'll only bite when you beg for it." Her breathing hitched and this time she did let out a small noise, a near whimper. "I think though, we should have a nightcap at my place to rectify being so greedy and only thinking of my own needs."

The double entendre was not lost on her as she stared at him, her heart skittering to a break neck speed. There was no doubt she wanted him, again, desperately between her thighs, but she wanted far more from the intriguing man than just a night of slated desire.

Seeing her hesitation, Severus reached for her hand once again, "It is not an offer I'm making lightly; no one has ever been to my current residence."

The sincerity in his voice, and the emotion he allowed to show through his eyes, nearly made her heart melt. This man, who had spent so much of his life shrouded in secrecy and lies, who had sacrificed nearly everything for the love of a woman who had died before she herself had even been able to perform her first bout of accidental magic, wished to take her to _his_ home.

She nodded and smirked at his agape mouth when he asked for the bill and been promptly informed it had already been dealt with. His glare zeroed in on her, "I invited YOU to dinner, its only fair that I pay."

As they both rose and donned their cloaks, Hermione moved in close, giving his hand a squeeze and whispering in his ear, "I think, since I tricked you into coming to see me in the first place, it's only fair that I compensated you somehow."

His voice, husky with lust, responded just as lowly, "I believe I've been adequately compensated for your impertinence."

She laughed loudly as they stepped out onto the nearly empty streets, "Adequate? Is that all you think it was?"

In a flash, his arms were wrapped securely around her waist, his body pressed firmly against hers, and his breath hot against her neck, "The night is still young, Hermione." Without waiting for a reply, his crack of apparation spirited them away.

The first thing she noticed about his home was that it was not decorated in nearly as much green and silver as she would have thought. The main foyer was brightly lit, an intricate royal blue carpet led into the main room, sparse and littered with books, open notes and quills on a cedar desk, and a luxurious looking white chesterfield sofa. Frankly, she couldn't keep her eyes trained on anything in the room for long, hoping to drink in as much detail as she could about the man beside her.

With a curt flourish of his wand, a few books found their way to their place on the shelves lining one wall, and the notes on his desk tidied themselves. "My apologies for the disarray, I was not expecting … this outcome," he said as he helped her out of her cloak.

Hermione snorted softly, "If you believe this to be reason for apologies then you've never lived in a tent with Ron and Harry."

He rolled his eyes, "Thank the heavens for small miracles."

She continued to look about the room, trailing her hand along the spines of several books and scanning their titles, "This is quite an impressive collection Severus."

His eyes were trained on her, as if he wasn't sure what he should do next, his hands were clasped behind his back in a formal manner and his posture was rigid. It was clear this was a new and uncomfortable experience for him. He cleared his throat, "I'll leave you to satiate your curiosities and bring us something to drink."

She smiled brightly at him and nodded, and then she was alone in his sitting room. The sitting room of one Severus Snape, the man she was most definitely going to fuck senseless tonight. She nearly giggled at the absurdity of it all. If Ron and Harry knew they might have an aneurism trying to make sense of it all. But despite how odd the situation seemed, it felt right, and there was no doubt she was more than attracted to him.

She walked the room, coming across a few mounted pictures, one of a severe looking woman she knew to be his mother, remembering the clipping of Elien Prince she'd taken from the library in her sixth year. Another photo was of the Order, a picture taken after the war, her own younger smiling face waved up at her as Ron gave her a kiss on the cheek and Harry slung an arm around Ginny. She looked at all the other faces and sighed a heavy breath, so many they had lost that day, Tonks and Remus should have been in that picture. Severus should have been there.

One photo was merely a frame on the wall and curiously she stroked its edges, glancing at the name beneath, Albus Dumbledore. Hermione furrowed her brow, confused.

"I don't think now would be an appropriate time to call on him," Severus said directly behind her.

Hermione jumped and let out a squeak of fright before slapping his chest lightly, "Severus Snape don't you make ANY noise when you move?!"

He smirked, "Sorry, old habits."

She accepted the tumbler of firewhiskey and took a small sip before looking back at the empty portrait, "You mean … he can visit you?"

Severus nodded, sipping his own drink, "It was at his request, and I granted him permission so long as he wasn't hovering over me all hours of the day."

Hermione shook her head, "I don't understand, I thought once your debt was paid, once you had made it through this, you would never wish to see anyone of us who had been involved again."

Severus looked down into his drink and nodded solemnly, "I did not. I was not meant to survive this war and when I did I was angry. How was I to live with myself after all the things I've done, the lives I've taken, directly and indirectly." He scowled, knocking back the rest of his drink. "And then on top of it all they gave me a fucking medal."

"Severus," Hermione pleaded, gripping his forearm lightly, "You deserved that medal and so much more. No one could even fathom how much you sacrificed for us."

She could see his guard rising, the walls he had carefully constructed around himself shifting into place, "Well, after coming back from my excursions, I was … alone. Talking to Albus didn't seem so bad, although he does have a knack for interrupting at the worst moments."

Hermione laughed softly, "Yes, I can picture that."

He placed both their empty tumblers on the desk, "As shocking as this may seem, I don't think I wish to talk about our departed Headmaster any longer."

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her to his chest, their lips barely a fraction away, and she could smell the firewhiskey tinting his breath, making her nearly dizzy with need. His eyes were heavy on hers, lidded with desire and lust, all previous insecurities gone.

Her heart raced as his lips caught hers in a soft kiss, betraying none of the need that she had just seen in his eyes before. It was a lazy slow kiss, his tongue teasing against hers, coaxing it to dance. His hand slipped down her back, dragging the zipper of her dress as well as unclasping her bra with a simple flick of his fingers.

She fisted her hands in the front of his robes and whimpered against him. Since when was Severus Snape so good at undressing a woman? It was fluid, effortless, the only interruption brought on when he raised the dress over her head and broke their kiss. But she was not left wanting as his lips returned more feverish than before, nipping her lower lip sensually. "Tell me what you need Hermione," he rumbled against her.

A moan escaped her as he pulled the straps from her arms, tossing the bra down with her dress. "You Severus, just you," she panted out.

This seemed to do the trick as he suddenly lifted her, legs wrapped around his torso, and lead her across the hall into his bedroom. He dropped her to the bed, atop her in an instant and grinding himself against the only barrier of clothing she had.

Hermione broke the kiss, needing to feel more of him, to feel the heat of his skin blistering against hers. She yanked the buttons of his coat, so many damn buttons, fumbling more than twice before it was finally off. Only she was confronted with another row of buttons.

The frustration must have been apparent in her eyes as Severus chuckled low, the sound vibrating against her neck as he kissed the tender spot behind her ear, "We have all night."

Hermione let out a growl of frustration and ripped the offending shirt open, buttons popping off and scattering to the floor and on the bed around them. Finally she was greeted with his pale chest, smattered with dark coarse hair and littered with scars. She reached her hands out, desperate to feel him, to run her fingers through the dark curls and tweak his rosy nipple.

Before she met his skin, her hands were yanked above her by invisible strings, and tug as she might they were fastened securely. Her eyes shot to him and she saw the mischievous grin playing on the corner of his stern set face.

"Destruction of my property will not be tolerated ," he drawled, one hand reaching down to rub delicious circles against her aching clit. She cried out, too needy to come back with a clever response of her own. He didn't let up, continuing to rub her through her soaked panties until she was quivering, her arms taut against his spell, legs trembling against him.

Just as she felt the beginnings of her orgasm, his hand moved away from her completely. She whined her need, making him chuckle again. "First, restorations are due," as he said this, he ripped her panties from her, tearing the delicate fabric and leaving her bare.

Her heart was throbbing, racing and pulsing in tandem with the ache between her legs. The previous impending orgasm was subdued but not far and if he put his hand back to work she'd certainly cum within a minute. "Please Severus!" she whimpered, looking into his dark eyes and hoping he'd take pity on the desperation he saw there.

If anything his resolve hardened and the smirk widened, "Please what Hermione?" He took the moment to rid himself of the torn shirt, and quickly vanished the rest, leaving them both stark. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his cock, its length bobbing with each pulse, her mouth went dry.

"Oh Gods Severus just fuck me!"

Severus captured her lips in a hungry, passionate kiss, grinding his hard length against her clit, over and over until she was once again shuddering, grinding back in a delirious attempt to get the friction she needed to cum. She was gasping into his mouth, the pleasure rising and making her short of breath.

Once she was on the edge, he pulled back again, and before she could utter a word of protest his cock was pushed inside of her. The spell on her arms was released and she clung to him as he set a furious pace and quickly brought her to an eye crossing, toe curling orgasm.

Through her keening and clenching he never slowed, slamming deep into her each time, his low growls and moans only prolonging her orgasm. Nothing had ever felt this good, this intense. Her mind was empty for a brief moment until the thrusting of his cock inside her made her cry out again.

She ran her hands over his chest, pinching his nipple lightly and making him hiss and push into her roughly. His cock brushed against her g spot making her mouth fall open in silent praise. Noticing the reaction, Severus thrust the same and she groaned loud, her legs quaking around his waist, "Oh God Severus I'm going to cum again!"

The snarl on his face was primal as he thrust over and over against the same spot, his arms starting to shake no doubt with the effort to hold himself up, and sweat glistening on his brow. He leaned down and nipped her neck, "Cum for me Hermione. Cum on my cock. Now."

"FUCK SEVERUS! OH GOD!" Hermione screamed. Light flooded her vision, blinding her as her pussy contracted and pulsed against him, the pleasure building throughout the orgasm until it was all she could handle. Throughout the climbing orgasm she vaguely felt him spill into her before he was pushed completely out of her by her spasming.

Severus rolled beside her, chest rising and falling rapidly, as she lay there unable to move a muscle or form a coherent thought. The only thoughts she managed was Severus Snape was an incredible lay. As her heart slowed to a normal rate and her twitching was just a faint thumping in her lower abdomen, she turned to him, a slow smile forming on her lips as he smirked at her.

Hermione pressed herself against his side, hugging him to her and throwing a leg over his mid section. "How many more times do you think we can do that tonight?"

His only response was to kiss her forehead and chuckle softly.

Severus awoke in the morning, vision obscured by a mass of curls and feeling rather warmer than normal. A smile formed on his face as he remembered the evening they shared. She had been quite the insatiable little thing, requesting a second and third round throughout the night.

The last bought had started in the middle of the night. Sleep riddled kisses lead to stroking which lead to the tired witch straddling his cock and slow grinding until she whimpered a small orgasm atop him. She had promptly fallen asleep as soon as she was cuddled against his bare chest once again.

He looked down at her, a small smile curving her otherwise peaceful face. It was a wonder to him that a beautiful, brilliant, and determined witch was nuzzling against him and smiling in her sleep. And to top it off it was Hermione fucking Granger. Brightest witch of her age. A member of the Golden Trio. Order of Merlin First Class.

He watched her sleep, the slow rise and fall of her chest; the way her breath blew an errant curl that was undoubtedly tickling the tip of her freckled nose. Even the small noise, for it couldn't be considered a snore the sound was so miniscule, coming from her nose was possibly the most adorable thing he could imagine.

Realizing how sentimental he was becoming as he watched her, he slipped from the bed, covering her naked form with his green sheets. He tossed on a pair of black sweats and made his way to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

What was he to do now? He had a naked witch in his bed; Hermione Granger, he reminded himself. His lack of experience frustrated him; social cues were never something that came easily to him. Sighing heavily, he poured himself a coffee and went to the living room, wanting to think quietly for a few moments before she awoke and he was forced to be incredibly awkward with her.

One thing he knew for sure, he wasn't going to run from her again. If anything she had proven that she would simply hunt him down until she had her will. Besides this was his home, where would he run to? Knowing this was one thing, enacting it was another.

Quite simply, he hadn't felt this way about a woman in a very long time. Sure there were trysts, he was a man after all, but none had left him feeling as disoriented as he did and none he ever dared to invite into his home, his sanctuary. His heart gave a lurch as he thought of the smile she so often bestowed on him.

He scowled darkly into his mug. His stupid traitorous heart was already making its opinion known. The damned thing never made a peep for years and now a few months association with the little chit and it was like a love sick puppy pining for her when she was a few doors away.

"Severus, I would have rather thought I'd find you in high spirits this morning."

The wizard snapped his head up to the portrait where Albus Dumbledore was smiling genially, eyes twinkling behind his half moon spectacles. Severus snorted into his mug, walking over to the wall where he hung so they could speak in quieter tones, "Whatever would give you that impression old man?"

The twinkling increased tenfold and Severus swore he saw a rosy tint beneath his beard, "Well it was a most curious thing. I popped in for a night cap with you last night but it seemed you were rather occupied with other company."

"Merlin," Snape groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He knew he should have cast a silencing charm. "What did you hear or see should I add?"

Albus waved his hand dismissively, "Oh I didn't see anything, Severus. I heard some ruckus in the other room and noticed well," he looked pointedly to where Hermione's dress and bra were discarded. Severus took his wand from the table and sent the garments to his room. Albus chuckled, "Well, anyways, I drew my own conclusions and left promptly."

"Indeed," Severus said, taking another sip of his coffee. The heat in his cheeks had nothing to do with the hot beverage and everything to do with the knowing smile and twinkling eyes coming from the portrait. He felt like a randy teenager being caught in the act.

"Oh come now, Severus, she must be someone special if you've brought her here," he said suggestively.

Severus glanced to the hall, sighing heavily, "Yes, although I'm at a loss of how to proceed at this point."

Albus nodded solemnly, "I can understand that, you have spent far too much time on your own."

Severus sneered, "Forgive me for not dragging another human being into my pitiful existence while I played spy for you. Or perhaps I should have led her directly to the Dark Lord myself."

"That role has long been over and yet you continue to shrink away from the world," he replied evenly.

Severus turned away from that all knowing gaze, "Well the world has never been kind to me, what do I owe it?"

"Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Severus turned back to the somber gaze of his only friend, "The last woman I loved ended up dead."

Albus shook his head, "It is time you forgave yourself for the actions of a mad man long dead. If you care for this woman, this is the first step you must take."

Severus felt the sting behind his eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat, how did this stupid talking portrait manage to constantly tear through his walls like they were made of paper. Composing himself as best he could, he managed a small nod. If he continued to hold this over himself he would only hurt Hermione in the end.

Albus smiled, "It won't be easy my boy, but I am at your service when you need me. It is only fair that I return the favor."

Severus nodded again, not trusting his voice to be steady just yet.

The man in the portrait clapped his hand once, as if to signal the end of such miserable conversation, "Now, you must tell me who the lovely lady in question is. You know us portraits need something to gossip about."

Severus rolled his eyes about to tell the old man to stuff it, when Hermione, rubbing her tired eyes, wandered into the living room wearing one of his shirts that fell just below her butt cheeks.

"Severus, you weren't in be-" she paused and squeaked in surprise when she saw the former headmaster in his frame. "Uh- hello Sir." Her entire face flushed scarlet as she attempted to pull down and stretch his shirt to cover more of her legs.

"Oh my," the portrait chuckled.

Snarling, Severus charmed a blindfold on his friend, "I better not hear a word of this from Minerva, or I swear I will have you removed."

Albus laughed once more before stumbling blindly from his frame, "No promises, my boy," he called out as he left.

Severus ran his hand over his face. No doubt he would hear about this; perhaps a howler would be in his morning mail shortly. He felt a soft hand pull his own away from his face and was greeted by a shy smile from the woman who was just hours ago screaming his name.

"Good morning," she leaned up and placed a gentle kiss to his lips.

And in that he was undone. He pulled her close and kissed her fully, allowing the kiss to remain soft yet hoping to convey the feelings he could not express in words to her. She whimpered against him, her hand snaking between them to rest over his racing heart.

Perhaps his old friend was right. Maybe it was time to let go of what was, what couldn't be changed, and allow himself a future that perhaps contained the half naked witch in his arms. He growled low as her hand toyed with the waistband of his trousers. Yes perhaps he could endure the insufferable know-it-all after all.

 **Thats it folks! I made this chapter extra long for you. A sort of epilogue of sorts as I know many of you wanted some more smut (I mean who doesn't). Plus I thought I would somewhat address some of Severus' self image. I mean clearly its not solved but hes on a healthy path now! Yay for Severus and Hermione. As always I appreciate reviews so much so please please leave me some goodies to read.**


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